The Fifth Evans
by TheWackedOne
Summary: In the book, there's this Dude called "Mark Evans". This is his journey finding the magical community, his family, and the evils that await. wont be cont-ed. sry. i cant write, i just suck at it. you can adopt it though is you ask nicely!
1. Mark EVANS

_Authors Note: Mark Evans is a real character. He's in the 5__th__ book._

Lily Evans had a little brother. Mark was the baby of the family. Lily would have loved him with all her heart. But she was dead. Dead for five years, when little Mark was born. Mark had only his Mom, and Dad. The unknown brown-haired girl disappeared from photographs after one of her in a beautiful, flowing white dress. The red-haired girl was everywhere in the house. She appeared as a newborn, a teenager, a graduate (of somewhere), married to a dark-haired man, and lastly, a picture at a baby's first birthday.

Mark tried to discover who these mystery women were, but he only found a few things: the dark-haired girl's name was Petunia. She married an awful man and disgraced the Evans name. Of the fire-topped girl, Mark learned only one thing: DON'T MENTION HER. Mark tried, time and time again, but dad always left the house to take a long walk through the country side that surrounded the house, and Mom collapsed in tears.

Mark would leave and think and dream of the girls, and imagine they were with him, to explain, have fun with and love.

When Mark was ten, he demanded to meet this "wrecker of the Evans name". He wanted to know who he was, his identity, his family. He wanted to meet the girls.

Mark's parents dropped him off a park two blocks from Petunia's house. "First, Explain who you are. Petunia hasn't spoken to us since she married, and doesn't know you exist. She has a son, Dudley, who is 15. That's all we know." His parents told Mark this after he insisted to meet _his sister__I have a sister._

Elated, Mark began walking up the road to meet, for the first time, his big sister.

* * *

"Huh, punk, u lookin fo sumbudy?"

_Who is this fat, no HUGE guy? Hes disgusting!_

"ya lookin fo trouble? Ya want trouble? Yea punk?"

Mark tried to be polite "excuse me. Im lust going to meet someone."

"Yea, yea, ya gunna meet someone? Tell us punk, is it a chick?"

confused Mark asked "a chicken? NO. She's a person!"

"a chicken! A chicken! Yea, yoo a stupid punk. An sstuupid peepel need to be tuwt sum manners. Wat'cha say boys?"

Grunts from all sround sounded, and Mark realized just how much pain he was in for.


	2. Who is he?

Mark lay sobbing quietly in the shadow of the large park slide, happy at least that no one could see him.

A person was leaning over him. Mark could tell, because the shadow had gotten darker. He waited a few minutes, but the person wouldn't leave. He turned his red, wet, angry face up to this intruder.

He was startled to see another boy, with unruly black hair, and vivid green eyes. The eyes. Where had he seen those eyes before? WHERE?

The boy smiled, and pushed back his hair. "Need a hand up?" He asked extending one. Mark took it and pulled from the hard ground.

"Sorry about my cousin….big guy, talks stupid? That's Dudley alright." The stranger spoke complying with Marks look of confusion and sullen nod. "He's an ass." _Dudley,_ Mark thought. _Petunia has a son named Dudley…could it be? No. Idiot, makin a fool of yourself! Concentrate!_

"So, what's a guy doin out so late at night?" the stranger was saying. Normally, Mark would have yelled and said it was none of his damn business what he's doing, but something stopped him. Something about the boy's eyes, and his voice. Something that had a trace of familiarity. What was it? Something made the boy confide in this stranger. He began "My name is Mark Evans,"

The stranger stiffened _EVANS_ thought Harry Potter, _could it be?...no, stupid. Forget it._

The stranger had hesitated a moment before again extending his hand saying "Harry Potter."

Mark continued quietly, "Ther have always been pictures of two girls at my house. I just learned one of their names. My older sister, Petunia."

Harry stopped again _Petunia….he has a sister PETUNIA? That would make him my, my…my uncle….weird._

"So, where does Petunia live? I could get you there safely."

Disbelief caused Mark to question "Safe? Why wouldn't this _Dudley_ get me if I'm with you?"

Harry Potter chuckled. "He's afraid of me." he said with a smile.

"Of YOU? No offence, but WHY??"

Harry smiled a little, and leaned down to Marks ear with a hand at the side of his mouth. "It's a secret." He whispered.

Straightening, Harry asked "So, where does your sister live again?" He turned to see Mark desperately looking into all of his pockets. "What's wrong?"

"I lost it!" cried Mark franticly. "I lost it! I begged my parents to bring me here and notw I cant even visit!!!!!!!" Mark began crying again.

"Hey, do you know your parents cell number?" asked Harry softly. Sniffling, Mark nodded. "I stay at my aunt's house during the summer. It's right near here. You stay outside, give me the number, and I'll call your mom to pick you up 'k?" Mark nodded, and recited the number to Harry, who wrote it on his hand with….wait an old quill?

Harry Potter and Mark Evans walked the way in silence. Harry told him not to tell him of his family, but to keep them close to his heart, and never forget them.

Harry left Mark outside, and dialed slowly, 8-2-4-1-9-9-3, and waited as it rang. A woman tentatively asked "Hello?"

Harry put on his polite face and said "Hello, Mrs. Evans? My name is Harry Potter. I found your son Mark, in the park, and he said he forgot the address, and to please pick him up at the same place you dropped him off. Is that alright? Thank you."

* * *

"Tim…." Called Mrs. Evans. "Tim, get over here!!!" In the car, Josephine Evans explained that she thinks that Lily's baby boy is alive. They almost crashed. "Jo….."said Tim shakily, "this is not the kind of thing to joke about." "NO," insisted his wife, "I swear, he said "My name is Harry Potter", dammit Timothy, why wont you believe me?"

"I'm afraid to."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For a second, Harry and Mark couldn't see anything, they were so blinded by the head lights.

Harry stood slowly, as Mark jumped up and ran to the car. Mrs. Evans asked him to come by the window so she could thank him. She almost froze, when she saw those eyes. The eyes of her dear, sweet, dead daughter.

"Thank you so much." She said "Can I give you some money to show our gratitude?"

Harry smiled (sadly, thought Jo) and said quietly "I'm just happy to give a boy back to his family. I never knew my parents, and don't want anyone else to be forced to live with people like my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon."

Hesitantly, Jo inquired "Pray tell, what is your aunt and uncles sur-name?"

"Dursley." Harry said briefly. He looked into the back of the car, smiled and said "'Night kid."

Mark felt like he had a big brother at that moment.

Harry waved, pushed his hands into his jeans, and walked off into the dark.


	3. Promises and Torments

**A/****N :**** why do SO few ****pple**** review? ****Its**** not asking much, really. I only ask that you read the story, and tell me what you think, or give me suggestions, or angry letters, or whatever you want. Really that's it. It takes about 5 seconds. Honestly. No, I lied, ****itll**** probably take longer that a literal 5 seconds, but w/e, right? ****OH,**** and ****thanx**** for the people who did review! I love you ****pple**

Sullenly, Harry kicked open the door, and walked up the stairs to his bedroom. He threw himself onto the bed, and stared at the ceiling for a while. What had caused him to do that? Be all nice like that. Say all that, be, like, deep.

Harry groaned, and rolled left, onto his side and put his arm under his head.

Why? He felt like screaming with all the sadness, and anger being pent up inside him. Why did he DO THAT?

You know why. A treacherous voice told him. You know why and they know why. You told them yourself. Harry argued back, shut up. Just shut up. You're wrong. You're wrong, you're wrong! Im NOT sullen about my fate…. Im not…….im not.

But you are.

Harry drifted off to slumber, with these thoughts still swirling about in his mind.

He fell asleep without even dreams for comfort.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"I tell you dammit, he IS!" Jo was arguing quietly with her husband. "He IS Lily's son, and by God, I'll ask that 'Dumplechore' Professor about this, and DEMAND that he come live with us!"

Tim sat on the won couch, ugly, but favored by his daughters, with his hands loosely clasped between his legs. He was the picture of misery and soft confusion, watching his wife rant before him, like an angry cat.

"LISTEN to me!!" Tim's wife pleaded. "LISTEN!" she sighed cradling her head in one hand.

Letting it drop she said quietly "I saw him Tim. I saw him. He looked exactly like James. As if James were no longer dead. But his eyes. Those were LILY'S EYES STARING AT ME TIM!!!"

Jo began crying desperately. "I MISS HER TIM!!! I MISS JAMES AND THE BABY And, and, and…I miss her!!! I want her back. I WANT OT SEE LILY….."

Jo stopped frightened. Tim stood and quickly stood in front of his wife. "Mark. Mark, honey, go back to bed."

Mark stood there, pale and unnerved, but determined.

"What? "Go to bed"? Mom is crying, and I want to know…." Mark seemed to lose his nerve here a bit, but swallowed and spoke again. "I want to know who you're talking about. Who's Lily? And James? And the Baby? Who are they?"

This solemn declaration proved too much for Jo, and she collapsed, crying. Stricken, Tim and Mark ran to help her up.

"Mark." She managed to say. "Mark. If, and I know this sounds strange, but If, on your eleventh birthday, you get a letter. A, a, a, a _special_ letter, trust me you'll know which one it is," she said to the flicker of a question that crossed her son's face. "If you get this letter, I swear to you, I _swear_ to you, that I will explain everything, okay baby?"

Mark could do nothing to comfort his mother but sit on the floor and give her a long lasting hug.

"I love you."

Neither of them could tell who said that….

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Harry was getting ready to leave, and glanced at his watch. 8 o'clock. Right on….hnn?

Harry saw the inked phone number on his hand. He made a move to the bathroom to scrub it off, but instead, crossed the room to the desk, quickly jotted it down, and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. He didn't know why, but he wanted to keep this particular phone number.

"Ay, boy! You ready yet? Going to go to the Sweet Shoppe _after_ we drop you off. Dudley's got to get some food into him before he goes off to school!"

Harry visibly restrained himself from saying that Dudley _especially_ didn't need any extra food, (or a phrase to that effect). Luckily, Vernon Dursley could not see him. Not that it mattered much since Harry was _FINALLY! School! Yes!!! I'll get away from this hell-hole!!!_

Harry's jubilation bubble was popped as he heard a loud crack.

His first thought was: someone Apparating? HERE?

Then he realized it was: Dudley, breaking the door posts to get into Harry's room.

"What do you want?" asked Harry trying in vain to hide the open bag of gold on his bed.

Dudley's pudgy face turned to Harry and he froze. "I'm not a-scared a'you." He said shakily. "you cant do that," he wiggled his finger to indicate magic "when yur not in," he pointed over his shoulder to indicate Hogwarts "So there."

Harry, knowing he had the advantage to pull one last prank for the year on his overly-fat cousin, took a slow step forward. "Hey Dud. Did you know that there are only seven years of school '_there_'."

Dudley wildly shook his head.

Calmly, Harry continued "And, ya know, I'm in my Fifth Year now, d'cha _that_? No?"

Harry tool another step forward, and as Dudley Scurried back, the posts creaked again.

"Guess what Dudley? That would make ME an upperclassman. How do you know the rules aren't different for upperclassmen?"

Dudley, squeezed through the door, waddled down the hall, pushed his way through another door, and slammed the door to his own room shut.

Harry peeked out of the room, chuckled, and turned back into his room to finish packing.


	4. Lily, found and lost

**I love my story even if you don't. So there….OMG, I am so immature…..ahhhh!!!**

"Hm? What?" Harry asked not focusedly.

"HARRY!" Ron was in his face, refusing to leave. Taking the only option, Harry hit him in the chest. "What!"

"Harrryyyyyyyyyyy," whined Ron, "you didn't have to hit me haaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrdddd!!!!!"

"Sorry," muttered Harry unregretfully. "What were you doing in my face?"

"You're out of it today…..ooops." Ron jerked toward Harry as the train started.

"What do you mean?"

"You aren't thinking about….CHO, are you? Hmmmmmm? C'mon, you can tell me!"

"Ummmm. Yeah, NO. I was, um, thinking about….My life. You know, my family and stuff."

"oh". No one liked to touch on the subject of the dead, so Ron said semi-cheerily "Well, at least you've got us!"

That night laying on his back, staring up at that familiar ceiling stain shaped like a dog (Harry imagined this used to be Sirius's spot) Harry pondered, and dove into his feelings and thoughts trying to find the answer. _Why didn't I tell Ron about Mark?_ Harry found an answer; the same one, every time. And every time, he cast it away, looking for a new one.

For Harry knew that the repetitive answer was right, he knew it in his heart, but he would not accept it.

He kept looking.

₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪

Mark, too was staring at a familiar spot on the ceiling above _his_ head. This spot, was, well, just that. A spot on the ceiling. But unlike any other spots on the ceiling, this one he could find instantly. He _felt_ it. It drew his eyes, welcoming his secrets and thoughts.

Mark glared at the spot, and it seemed to shrink a bit. Why wouldn't his parents tell him anything? It was so frustrating!!!! Strangers had told his that they were "so sorry about Lily." Lily.

Lily. This name seemed to mean so much, and hold so much meaning. This name made his Mother cry. This named was a link from him to so many people. This name had something do with his past…and future. This name...was written in his ceiling spot? What?

Mark got up, went downstairs, drank some water and splashed some more on his face. He then proceeded to go back to his room and lay on his bed.

It was still there. Written in somewhat slanted, curvy handwriting, the 's' making a slashed line beneath the two words:

**Lily Evans**.

This was new. Evans. _Is this an aunt?_ Thought Mark. _A..a cousin. A Grandmother? A….a girl. Stupid THAT'S obvious. Hm. A girl. Maybe with flowing red hair._

Needing solidification, Mark said aloud to the empty room, and the marked ceiling "Lily Evans."

The writing changed. It now read **Is Jo or Tim there?** "No." said Mark confidently.

**Then move**.

Mark scrabbled out of bed, just as a section of the ceiling, a perfect square 3 feet, by 3 feet fell soundlessly onto his bed.

Mark gaped at it.

He looked at the hole, back at his bed, and gaped. A thud sounded.

Mark hit the floor unconscious.

₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪

"Looks like he found it." Murmured Jo.

"It?"

"Lily's retreat. After she got engaged to James, she told me that every time she disappeared for a while, even before she got her letter, she hid in a secret room in the attic. When I asked her how she to the attic, she said "Through a hidden door." This is what she meant I guess."

They stood there surveying their damaged house.

"How will we f…" Tim stopped talking as the ceiling fragment gathered all the dust onto itself, slowly rose, and fitted itself seamlessly into its proper place again.

"oh." Said Tim, "That works too."

"Should we wake him and tell him?" Jo asked indiacting Mark, on the floor.

Understanding the boy's pride, Tim answered "Nah. Let him find the world on his own."

Linking arms with his wife, Tim sauntered out of the room.

What Tim and Jo failed to realize, is that when one falls unconscious, one may forget small, trivial matters.

Unfortunately for Mark, this meant losing the last 10 minutes of his life to the black hole of lost memories.


	5. Tiny Pellyhones

Last: Mark lost the memory of the last 10 min of his life.

The turn of a full year came and passed, and Harry found himself again, standing before the train, still not ready to leave Hogwarts. He pulled on his jacket, and sighing, followed his friends on.

Harry was sitting next to the window, having the cool glass ease his throbbing headache.

"Harry, are, are you OK?" the question came from Hermione.

Harry knew what was wrong, bet he had yet to tell his friends about…Mark. He rolled over, leaning on the back of the seat, when he heard a crunch.

Everyones' heads turned toward the sound. Toward Harry. He blushed slightly and said "There's something in my pocket."

Every one stared at him. Without waiting for someone to gather their thoughts enough to ask, no probably demand, that he show them what it was, he reached into his pocket and drew out a crumpled piece of parchment.

Harry knew what it was.

Hermione, being nosey, leaned over and snatched it from him. "Oh Harry, it's a phone number!!"

Ya think? Asked Harry rhetorically in his mind.

"Well of course, you must call it right now!" Hermione began rummaging in her bag, while Ron gaped at her. "'Mione, I thought Muggle stuff cant work in Hogwarts." He said questioningly as she drew out a blue cell phone with neon green lightnings. He became fasinted "Oh my gosh, it's like, like, like a tiny pellyhone!"

"TE-LE-PHONE, Ron." Hermione said exasperatingly saying this for not the first, or (she guessed) the last time.

"Anyway," continued Hermione turning her attention to Harry, "Call." She extened the phone and the parchment toward him.

"ummm…" What could he say? He didn't want them to know about Mark, and the other option would be really embarrassing. He took the other option.

"I cant." The words seemed to pop invisible non-existent bubbles of excitement loudly.

"AND WHY THE HELL NOT?" bellowed Ron.

"She's not used to other people yet, and I KNOW that you'll grab the phone!" insisted Harry as the sentence attacked Ron.

"SHE….." murmered Hermione.

Harry deciding it was the right action, "glared" at her.

"I don't get it…" whined Ron.

"She, you know, a _girl_."

"oooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhh." Ron was beginning to catch on. (we think.)

Harry sighed inwardly and told himself to contact Mark during the summer. Maybe look up "Evans" in the directory.

Not too hard.

_**Yeah right.**_

**N. **

**I know, and ****Im**** sorry its short, I'll try to write more on Saturday night. It may be late ****tho****…like 10, or 1.**

**SORRY!**


	6. Flashbacks, Info and 1 tiny lie

**YAY! Another chapter tonight. I asked my cousin to read this…I REALLY hope she does…(tho she'll prob forget for a week or two or more…grrr)**

LAST SUMMER (harry just met mark)

Arabella Figg was one of the two Squibs that could be within perimeter of Hogwarts, and not be turned away by a multitude of people pushing her away for her embarrassing lack of the abnormal. However, the teachers privy to Dumbledore knew that if _ARRABELLA FIGG_ actually left her hoard of cats and her hovel of a house, for something _other_ than food and the like, she probably had something important to say.

"They know." Two words that changed the plans of one brilliant man who feigned blissful ignorance.

"Who, knows what?" Dumbledore was possibly one of the most infuriating men Mrs. Figg had to deal with.

"You know bloody well who knows what!" she snapped. "And THIS time, you'd better be prepared for them."

She left before the old man could be bothersome for her sake. She sauntered out and slammed the door shut. Dumbledore sat at his desk, his clear, vivid blue eyes not quite focused, as if he were deep in thought.

Which, of course, he was.

_Flashback_

_"_Dead_. What do you mean, _Dead_?" quivered Josephine Evans, standing before his desk, next to her disbelieving husband. "you, her, James, all of you. You have magic. You can protect yourselves. She can't be _Dead_. She can't be. And neither is James."_

_Dumbledore looked sadly over his half-moon spectacles. "He has magic too, you know. We put everything we had into their protection. Sirius Black is on the run." He __threw out this last statement, analyzing any effect the couple might show. Jo turned pale. Tim gripped his wife's elbow, though it looked as if it were for his own support now._

_"_Sirius_?" Tears began leaking from the corners of __Josephine's eyes, and Dumbledore wished that Timothy could weep openly. "Sirius _Black_?"_

_"I'm afraid so." Dumbledore looked down._

_"And…and my daughter, and her husband. They are d…de…gone then are they?"_

_"Yes." The answer was finite. He hated giving it. The word seemed to echo, to reverberate off the walls. Haunting them._

_"But, But the boy!" cried Josephine desperately. "You haven't told me what happened to my grandson! What happened to Harry!" She looked expectantly around the room for some chance, some string of her daughter was still here._

_"Him too." This one lie was so hard to deliver, though it was needed. For Harry. For The Future. _

_This time Josephine collapsed and sobbed her frame shaking uncontrollably. The Headmaster quietly left his office. When he returned, Husband and Wife had departed._

_End Flashback_

And now, 14 years later, that one little lie was gunna cost him.

Albus sighed. His last encounter had not gone well. He even remembered trying to explain his plans to Minerva.

Poor Minerva. She never would get used to him.

_Flashback_

_"You told them then. The lie. About Harry." Minerva said this undoubtedly, and somewhat b__lunt__ly. _

_"Yes."_

_"And you claim that "This needed to be done"?"_

_"Yes."_

_"May I be told why?" she glared at him. "I deserve to know why!"_

_"Yes."_

_McGonagall__ let go of the breath she was holding, ready to start another argument, to prove her worthiness. She crossed the room and sat huffily onto a chair in front of the Headmaster's desk, and waited._

_"The boy cannot grow being pampered and spoiled." The words were harsh, and starngly knowing for one with no blossoming family of his own._

_"Why?"Minerva may not have had any young of her own to raise, but she was the eldest of 18 children, and helped raise them all, even when Mother died in the last one's birthing bed. Point is: SHE KNEW HOW TO HANDLE KIDS._

_"The child is important." He sighed. "VOLDERMORT," he said with emphasis "I taught the boy Minerva. It will be long before I am frightened of my own student." _

_"VOLDEMORT wants a child. An _**infant**_ of just shy of a year. This child, he wants dead. The boy can know nothing. Not of his parents, not of his near-death, not of our world."_

_He stood, stretched, and yawned. "Well, __I'm__ off to get some Gummi Bears. Or perhaps Kit-Kat. No one can make 'em like Kit-__Kat__."_

_As he passed he put a hand on the other __Professor's__ shoulder and said quietly "Trust me. It's for the best."_

_He left musing over sweets, leaving __Professor__ Minerva __McGonagall__ to muse over the words that the strange man had just uttered._

_End Flashback_

Steeling himself, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster and Professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, prepared to get the crap yelled out of him as he heard the footsteps of an angry grandmother approach his door.

Yikes. For him of course.

**Sorry to still leave you hanging about Mark having lost 10 minutes of him memory and laying unconscious on the floor. This whole week I'm free, but Sun. im walking to the library, Mon+Teus is New Years, and by the end of the week, I need to finish a 400 page book for school.**

**But I'll always write is something clicks.**

**BIBI and HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! (**_**tho its 12:15 and technically the 30****th****, Ill still say-**__** In like TWO DAYS!!!!)**_


	7. A Partner to Gaze With

**HI EVERYBODY!!! I love my reviewers! Never think ****its**** too bold to correct my grammar or spelling and stuff. I never had ****grammer****, and ****im**** too exited ****abt**** the story to care ****abt**** spelling! LOVE YOU GUYS!!!****-Mimi**

Mark knew immediatly that he was awake. He felt the hammering headache and there was something sticking up into his back. Mark groaned, and rolled over. _What the hell am I __doing__ on the floor?_ Was his first thought. The second was _What__happened_

He looked at his spot. He had a feeling he was looking at it previously. He stared suspiciously. Groaning, he got to his feet, and walked, swaying, giving him the appearance of a drunkard. He stumbled down the stairs, and fell into his seat.

His mother was making pancakes and waffles at the stove. _Hnm__ She never remembers who likes what, so she makes too much of both._He smiled somewhat affectionately at his moms back but stopped, and thought a bit. _She makes too much? __Or just enough?__ Enough for five people…._

Fully prepared to begin his protest for information, Jo turned to him and said something kinda intriguing. She said "So. Did you find anything up there?" then _WINKED?_ And walked awawy leaving breakfast to burn, and her son to contemplate.

Laying on his bed looking at everything and nothing **(AN. If u no ****wat****im****talkin**** abt.)**, he began to bring the conversations of the girls, and…..the stranger _NO. __he__ has a name. Harry. Harry Potter._ Mark realized that Harry was linked to his parents somehow, and sat up, in shock. _Wait, Mom __said,__ that if on my eleventh birthday, a postcard or something may come. If it does, she'll explain everything!_

Mark was already bounding to the door, when he realized, his birthday wasn't until August Seventh. Almost two months out of reach. Damn. He trudged back upstairs and flopped dejectedly onto his bed, staring moodily at the ceiling.

Harry too was laying on his bed staring at he paice of parchment he could barly see, that was laid on the dresser. He had yet to call Maark. He knew tha summer may be a bit easier woth a kid to talk too, but he could bring himself to do it. _Dammit__ Potter. You'll be a Sixth year come fall, and you don't even have the __frikkin__ guts to call a kid! You'll be facing all kinds __of things__ during school, but you cant face a mom and a kid. You're pathetic Potter._

Harry knew the summer would be difficult ot say the least. Sirius had just died, and the Dursleys either didn't know about Sirius's existence or just didn't give a damn. He would like a guy to talk to, but DAMMIT magic made stuff confusing!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------(o)---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, Harry lay on his bed, thoughts swirling around in his head like the churning ocean, and stared and gazed at the never-changing, never-ending expanse of stars.

Little did he know, but the boy in his minds eye, was in the same condition as him.

Unknowingly, adolescent and child, gazed at the thoughts, thinking of each other.

Both of them alone, both afraid.

Staring at the sky, unsuspecting, of the partner at the other side of the horizon.

**I think this is a good place to stop. Not in the **_**least**_**, is it satisfactory, but a good place to stop nonetheless. **

**Sorry to everyone who was waiting for Dumbledore to get harassed, but it'll have to wait. I need to think about how I want it to play out….sorry. **

**Not really. Sorry, I lied.**

**Again, feel free to yell at me, or correct my ****grammer**** or spelling, and if you have NE questions for me, that u think isn't really a review (I've felt that…maybe ****its**** just me shrug) feel free to email me!!! ****its**** on my profile!!!**

**I think……yeah.**

**If not, u can ask me thru a review!**

**BIBI! No updating tomorrow, I'll be really busy. Sorry. (OK, I lied again. Oh well.)**

**-Mimi**


	8. Anger and Broken Bones

**FIRSTLY- a HUGE thanks to ****CirqueDuFreakFan**** who gave me a great suggestion to get more ideas. Also**** a HUGE thanks to ****GryffindorGal87**** who also gave me a great idea. THANK YOU!!!!!! **

**Wow…that's the 1****st**** time I put something like that in a chapter….ever. cooooollllll…..**

"I…..will…..kill….him!" with a final burst of effort, Jo Evans broke through the lines of attempting to spare Dumbledore from this grandmother-attack. Of course, they were in vain, for Jo had turned 15 years of grief into hatred and anger. Stupids. You cant stop a maddened Grandmother.

To this day, no one asks what happened after Harry Potter's 5th year that would have an entire hallway re-done. Nor did anyone ask why there was a plaque talking about Dumbledore and anger and some Evans woman, and Harry.

The teachers all wore identical glares daring them to ask, but no one did. Teachers can be _very_ convincing a times.

(Any way lets get to the present…)

Dumbledore had been sitting serenely in his circular office, when a mighty crash sounded below. He paid it no mind (as if there was mind to spare…he was thinking over the past year), and assumed it was some trick of Peeves.

BIG MISTAKE.

As soon as he brought up this assumption, he heard another crash **(thoughts are very quick. This was 2 seconds later)**this time, he began to turn, only to have his neck be pushed back into the position it was trying to leave by a large red handbag. He stumbled, but never hit the floor. The person dragged him up, and hit him again. And again.

He was whirled around and had barely a second to see who was attacking him before he got a double-whammy.

_Nun chucks were usually not a lady's weapon_, he mused, as they came in contact with his body. _Large red handbags filled with nothing soft usually were._ That was Professor Dumbledore's last thought, before he fell making a sickening sound as he hit the ground.

Jo Evans whirled around, the momentum of another attempted swing at Albus's head, spinning her around. She stopped looked frantically around her, and then looked down.

"Fool."

About to hit him again, another hand grabbed her arm. Tim stood at her shoulder with a grim, determined look on his face.

"Do. You. THINK," gasped Jo, "That. You. Can. Stop. Me?" she drew herself up "I. Am. Your. WIFE!. And. A. Kung-fu MASTER! I, was, Sensei's prodigy!!...

And with that final declaration of strength, the Kung-Fu fighting, angry, prodigy, Nun-chuck wielding grandmother, fell forward in a dead faint.

1 hour later

Jo sat up quickly, and seeing her prey a mere yard away lunged, and fell. Her upper body was swinging just above the cold, hard, stone floor, because _somebody who is about to die_ had grabbed her legs, keeping her immobile.

She glared at _madam pomfrey? What am I doing in the infirmary?_ Her bewildered body was dragged back into bed.

Another Hour Later.

Jo was getting very inpatient. Pomfrey had refused to tell her what she did to Dumbledore (she wanted to satisfaction) until he awoke. She had been sitting here, glaring and he had yet to awake. _ That's it! I'LL HELP HIM WAKE UP!!!! _Heaving her self out of bed, she managed two steps before she was repelled, flying back into bed. "POMFREY!!! WHAT DID YOU DO?!?!?!!?"

"I put up a shield charm around your bed, and The Professor's, SEPERATLY. JUST STAY IN BED!!!" came the shouted reply.

Jo, growled and threw herself into the pillows, only to spring back up as Minerva came in.

"YOU! MINERVA! YOU ANSWER MY QUESTION!!!!"

Minerva only gave her a patronizing glance, that may have silenced a student, or many adults, but not an anger-crazed grandmother.

"DON'T YOU GIVE ME THAT LOOK!"

Minerva calmly walked up to the bed (which was must too daring. She must know that the charm's present), and voiced one word. "No."

"WHY?" this word voiced anger, determination, disbelief, anger, anger and, yes, more anger!

"I do not have the, erm, _clearance_, to give you such answers."

Minerva turned away to go to the Headmaster's bed, to visit the occupant, who had just begun stirring.

"POMFREY!!! POMFREY, HE'S WAKING, SO YOU BETTER TELL ME WHATS WRONG WITH HIM NOW!!!!!!!"

Madam Pomfrey, bustled in, with a clip-board, "apart from all the fractures, bruises and shattered bones, the injury _you_ may care about, is singular. His jaw is broken. He can't speak."

_Trying_ to keep calm, she said shakily "and _why_ can't you fix it _MAGICALLY_???"

With a smirk, Madam Pomfrey said "The school year is over. The parchment saying I may treat him has vanished signifying that it is null and void. I cannot treat him magically without his voiced or written permission."

Heading off the next, obvious question she informed Jo haughtily, "And _by the way_ fingers on both hands were crushed, his right humerus is broken, as is his right ulna. _Additionally_ his left radius and wrist are broken. He cannot give me a verbal or written contract." She said quickly, voicing it as a Run-On-Sentence.

Groaning, Jo slumped back into her pillows, "ho long?" she croaked.

Though Jo couldn't see, she knew Pomfrey was grinning ear to ear. "Four Months."

Groaning, Jo asked for her husband to bring her home.

Hope you like it! You've been waiting long enough! Sorry it's so short…

And thanks again to all the people who gave me suggestions!!!

bibi

-Mimi


	9. Countdown Initiated

Harry was a spineless idiot.

STILL after two months, having just three weeks before going to school, with Hermione's cell clenched in his hand, sitting on the hill that was a fifteen minute walk from the Weasley's home, he couldn't make the call. He had the number of the house.

He'd had it for a while. It was June 9th, and The Number had written itself on some parchment with only one "hint" as to who left it. "H", who clearly didn't want him to have an excuse not to call.

So here he was, spelled out of the house, wandless, and is going to stay there until he calls, or gives a specific time and date BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS that Harry will call "The Evans Kis" as Hermione called him.

Its was August first. He decided on a time and date and walked back to the house. "August Seventh, Ten-Thirty AM!" he barked to the door, knowing that Hermione was waiting just inside.

"Thank-you!" She said prissily, and gave a little bobbing curtsy as she let him in.

August Seventh…Mwahahahah.

_August Seventh._

August Seventh! Only SIX DAYS AWAY!!!! Mark was almost uncontrollable. He couldn't _wait_ for him birthday, this year more than ever! If a special package came for him, His parents would tell him everything.

**Six Days Away.**

**Five Days.**

"Hermione, will you stop staring at me like that?! I _SWEAR_ that ill call him on the Seventh!!!"

The look of disbelief plastered on her face was _possibly_ the most _aggravating_ thing Harry James Potter had ever seen in his ENTIRE LIFE!!!

**Four Days**

"MARK EVANS! If we hear ONE MORE CRASH from up there, you'll be spending your birthday in the SEWER!!!"

"OKAY!"

**Three Days**

"you know, Harry, you can always call earlier!" said Hermione shrilly. "Really early is good, early is pleasant, early is…mrgff!"

"Unfortunately" Harry never found out what else early was, due to the gag that "somehow" entered Hermione's mouth. Also it was due to the fact that Hermione was bundled off and tucked neatly in the old outhouse, which is now used as a broom-closet.

**Two Days**

"Mark," asked Jo strained, "You are _quite sure_ that you don't want a party, or a trip for your birthday?" "Because," she said reaching for the phone "It's still not too late.."

"No!" chirpy brat.

**One Day**

Harry was shaking with nerves.

Mark was shaking with exitment.

They were almost invisible and flying, they were vibrating so rapidly.

Anymore of THAT, the planet would shake too….or maybe just Britain.

**Bibi**

**-Mimi**


	10. The Dawn of August Seven

**OK…..chapter 10…whoa. This is a real landmark 4 me, considering im going back to skool January 7****th**** and haven't done my homework over these two weeks of break…. sigh…**

**Ok then:**

August Seventh. The Seventh Day of August. The month that Augustus Ceaser added to the calendar to make himself memorable. A day that many people died….a day that.

Mark Evans decided to wake up at 3 o'clock in the morning to check the post. It was Teusday, so the post will come. Before he managed to get out of his room however, he fell. Noisily.

See, Jo Evans knew that he would be eager this morning, so as to head him off, built "The Mountain of Canned Vegetables" right outside his door. (Mark's door swings _into_ the hall and _out of_ his room.) The noise was more that enough to wake up his mother, and _WAY_ too quiet to wake his father.

Mark's Happy Bubble of Joy and Elation quickly and quietly deflated with a little whining squeak. The Deflated Bubble of Lost Joy and Elation drooped to the floor and formed a blob at Mark's feet.

Mark hung his head dejectedly.

"Mark Peter Evans." Jo made it sound like a statement. Silent disappointment. Mark appreciated it much more when she raged and yelled. This was _scary_.

Mark hung his head even lower.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" Mark's neck snapped up and looked at him mother with a look of utter disbelief.

"What's the matter son? It's your birthday! You are eleven years old now! Have fun. Exeeeeeeeeeept…..you have one prohibition."

Mark look assumed the look of pure innocence. "And, what would that be, Mummy of mine?"

Jo flashed a glare at his impertinence before saying "YOU may NOT touch the mail before I not your father, I look through it."

Mark felt like he had received a blow to the stomach, but was refusing to let it show.

"Clear?'

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good! Have a Happy Birthday!" Jo skipped away and went back to sleep, leaving her son to turn back into his room and lay on his bed, looking up at his ceiling.

_MEANWHILE, the person who would be giving a call to him later__ was very busy_

_He was asleep._

Mark stared at his spot.

_Harry groaned and rolled over in his sleep._

"Lily," he said with tears beginning to spring into his eyes. "Lily," He said calling to the person of mystery that haunted him. The only one he could reach out to right now.

"Lily…"

_Harry began moaning saying almost indistinctly "no…Mum…Dad…no, stop…"_

"Lily, can you help me? Please Lily," Silent, unbidden tears began leaking from the corners of Marks eyes into his hair. "Please Lily. Please help me."

"Please."

_Harry began jerking in his sleep "no__…__mum…leave me...dont die…coming…die...noooOOOO"_

_Harry woke up. He glanced at his watch, 3:48. (Mind, he was still partially asleep.) "Might as well call that Evans kid and get this over with."_

_Harry stood, got dressed, grabbed the parchment and Hermione's cell phone, and went by way of falling down the stairs. Grabbing a pancake from yesterday's breakfast from the pantry, he began the trek up the hill._

"Lily…" Mark whispered quietly still gazing at the ceiling.

"Lily."

_Harry Potter sat on the slope of the hill, breathed the cool morning air, the air that refreshes the earth for a new day. The air that showed your lungs what real, pure air is._

_Harry began to dial._

_5-8-_

There was flowing script on the ceiling. It said "Wait" in flowing script.

_9-6-2-_

The word changed and said "Don't let them hear the phone."

_5-7_

Mark jumped up and picked up the phone on the first ring.

Tentatively he spoke the initiation word of a conversation "Hello?"

The voice on the other end gave sigh of static through the phone and said "Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"How're you doing?"

"Harry?" all thought flew out of his head as he blurted out the one question that no-one els would answer.

"Who is Lily?"

Silence.

Maybe Harry wouldn't answer either.

"Why do ask?"

"Lily wrote to me on my ceiling. She said this call would come and not to let my parents hear the phone ring."

"So you want to know….who Lily is?"

Eagerness almost clouded his voice. "Yes... But no-one will tell me."

"I'm not surprised…if it is her…." Harry said this last part almost too quietly for Mark to hear. Apruptly he asked "What is Lily to you?"

"Just a picture. A..a comfort a guess."

"What does she look like?"

"She's red-haired, and she's married. Her husband and son have the same hair…but the baby has green eyes, like Lily."

Silence.

"Mark, you may not want to know about about Lily…"

"Yes I DO!!!! She links me to so many people, and she makes mom cry and if a letter come today, Mom'll tell me everything!"

"Today?"

"Yes, its my eleventh birthday."

"….Happy Birthday."

"Thank-you."

"Mark…if you are, who I think you are, there's a 50-50 chance you'll get that letter. I cant tell you much, and I wont be able to tell you anything else if you don't get that letter….are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes…."

"Lily….Lily is dead Mark. Fifteen years dead. Her husband is dead too. Died the same night."

Mark began a whimpering cry "And the baby?"

"The baby survived."

"Thank-you." Mark hung up.

Face-down on his bed, Mark began to mourn those who died long ago.

_Harry stared at the phone. _Why'd I have to tell the kid that?_ He thought, angry at himself. _And on his birthday too! Go to hell Harry. _Harry looked at the sunrise, thinking of what an ass he is, an ass undeserving to see such a beautiful sight. _Ass. _He told himself. He watched the sun rise from her slumber._

Mark turned on his side, as the first streaks of pink, purple and yellow painted the clouds and sky. _Happy Birthday_ he thought to himself _Lily is dead, you cant touch the post, and you're crying on your birthday. Happy Birthday Mark. Happy Birthday._

Thoroughly depressed, with tear-streaks lining his face, Mark watched the sun rise on August Seventh.


	11. Morning and Dreams

The birds sing at the Weasley household on the morning of August Seventh.

Molly Weasley yawned and shuffled out of bed to take a shower.

Getting dressed, she saw it was 8:00 and went to wake everyone up. Seeing as she would have to end in the kitchen on the lowest floor, she first went UP. Ron's Room.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHhhhheeeeEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKK!!!" and Mrs Weasly found half her morning's work done, as that shrill scream woke everyone else in the house. For a moment there was silence. The birds even seemed to be holding their breaths.

Then the house seemed to shake as all the Weasleys and Hermione clambered up to the attic to see what was wrong.

They didn't need Mrs. Weasley to say anything, for they could (almost) all see the problem: Harry Potter was missing.

Hermione began an independent, systematical search of the house. Noticing the lack of her cell, and making the assumption that a burglar had not come into the house, stolen her phone, and not done anything else, she quietly laft the house and began the walk to the hill; Harry's Hill. The one that Harry found "comforting...kinda like a solace, ya know?"

Sure enough, Hermione found Harry sleeping on the hill, her phone in one folded hand.

_Harry had been dreaming. He knew that. _**(It was one of those dreams that you can tell it's a dream, and you can watch it unfold, but as it happens, you forget it.)**_Harry was jolted out of his dream as a boulder fell on him. _

Blinking bleary, another "boulder" "fell" on his head, effectively waking him up completely. Something was hitting him again and again and again and again.

"'Mione…" he managed to growl as his attacker threw her arms around his neck, achieving attempted strangulation. "Get…off…now…." he gasped.

Hermione gave one last squeeze, allowing Harry to make the transition from Red to Purple, she let go, still swinging her arms precariously.

Harry, still gasping, and blinking away tears, turned, rubbing his neck. He stopped as he saw the tears on her face.

"'Mione, what's a matter?" Harry wasn't that good at being one of the "comforting" types.

The complexion on Hermione's face seemed to redden and it looked as if she had gotten larger. She stood, towering over her, Her aura of Supreme Anger settling on her shoulders, but still swirling around her body like a cloak.

_Eeep?_ Thought harry.

"You. Harry Potter. YOU are the problem. Do you know what king of hell you've been putting u through? We've been looking everywhere! And here you arejustsleepingonhilllikeanidiot, waitingformetojustcomeandfindyou…youareCOMPLETLYirrisponsibesneakingoutofthehouselikethat!" Hermione rambled.

"You need a fitting punishment."

_Definatly "Eeep."_ Thought Harry.

"you will explain why you came up here," and ignoring Harry's gasp of indignation "in front of EVERYONE!"

_I knew I shouldn't have told her my secret…damn me…_ Harry sighed clearly portraying his thoughts, earning a hard kick in the thigh from Hermione.

Harry begins walking toward the house, selectively-blocking out Hermione's bambling, and entered the house. Still ignoring Hermione and the stares, he piled French Toast onto his plate, and went to eat on the stump in the backyard…away from all them.

Away.

_MARK…_

Mark had fallen asleep. He smiled in his sleep. A content smile. The smile you wear when a smile says more than any words you might say.

He smiled in his sleep.

_Mark was dreaming. He knew he was, and he didn't care. He was dreaming of Lily. Lily Catlinna. Yes, she told him her middle name. Cat-e-lee-nah. It was fit for a princess; it was beautiful. _

_Lily was smiling a sad smile of love at Mark, who was sitting gazing back at her. __"Mark," she said. "I never would have thought that's what they would name their only son." _

_Mark quipped in "My name id Mark Peter…what do you mean only son?"_

_Lily just smiled as Mark remembered the pictures of the girls scattered in him house. "you mean those girls, Lily and Petunia, they're my sisters?"_

_Lily smiled, an appraising smile._

_"Are you my sister then?" Mark asked eagerly._

_Lily smiled that same, sad smile. The smile that knew all of the worlds sadness. _

_Then her expression changed to that of wicked humor. "cant say."_

_Mark asked, "How does everyone know you? Are you famous?"_

_"cant say, but my son is famous. Please tell him that I love him. I love him very much. My husband died you know," she added abruptly. "Just before I did. We both died that night. But my son, my year old baby, he lived._

_"Mark, tell me about you now."_

_Mark, confused, timidly began to talk about himself._

_"…Then Bobby sat down in class the next day, and when he tried to get up, he couldn't. I had stuck Fast-Drying-Glue on his seat. It starts drying when it's exposed to heat. He had to waddle around for and HOUR with his chair stuck to his bottom! No one ever found out it was me!!"_

_Lily was laughing hysterically, when suddenly, she looked upward. "I have to go now Mark. Happy Birthday! Hope you get that letter! Love You!!!" she called as she floated upward._

_"Love You!!!!"_

Mark woke.

Yawning, it was 8:00, Mark shuffled downstairs, and put some French Toast on his plate. He went to the backyard, and sat in his "tree house" to eat. **AN ****it's like a tree house, with nothing in it, no walls, and no roof. Just a floor.)**** (oh, take note b/c it'll come back **_b'n_**…How did he get the plate up there..?)**

Finishing, Mark climbed down put his plate in the sink, and went back upstairs, to look at his ceiling, thinking about nothing, letting thoughts swirl around in his head, listening to the sounds of the street.

He heard the mail-truck come by his house; he heard someone walk to his front door; he heard the mail being pushed through the slot.

He lay in bed, silently, gazing at the ceiling, as if there were something behind it.

Coming back it, Harry saw that their Hogwarts letters had arrived.

**AN. Yes, I know that I'm not following the 6****th**** book, as pple are freely coming and going, and Hermione would have been most angry about him making himself susceptible to Death Eater attacks, but I'll live, you'll live, w/e**

**Also if you want to know what **_b'n_** is..feel free to check my profile…**

**YAY!!!**

**Bibi**

**-Mimi!**


	12. Day of the Seventh

Later, Mark was getting bored, so he tramped downstairs. His parents were brooding over a sheet of old-looking paper. Mark put this in the back of his mind, and took the Fruit Punch out of the fridge. "...so disappointed…" Mark's hand froze on the cabinet handle, gave himself a little shake, and took out a glass.

"…next year though…Mark thought how lucky he was to have just swallowed, and not choked. He figured that his parents had not yet been alerted to his presence. He decided to prolong this unawareness for a time.

"…_every day_..." "…used to it….wants to learn…" Mark crept to the door, silently placing his ear on it.

"We'll tell him now then." As the chairs scraped back and footsteps approached, Mark scurried back to the kitchen busying himself with his Fruit Punch.

"Mom…" he said turning "Have we got Root Beer instead?" "What?"

Jo stood, framed by the mahogany door-frame, the old-looking paper in her hand. "Mark……d..do you remember when I said that if a letter came, I would tell you everything?"

"….uh, yea." Unable to contain his glee, he asked "is that it? Can I see it?"

"No." Jo spoke gently. "This was sent by the umm…_community_ who would be sending your letter, but this was addressed to your Father and I. It's about you."

Sitting on a chair at the circular kitchen table, Jo looked up at her son. "Mark, do you think that you would be able to go to another school?"

Taken aback, Mark said hesitantly "I dunno…probably…if I could still write letters and stuff."

Looking slightly relieved, Jo posed another question, "Do you think you'd be able to go to summer school, _next summer_ don't worry, and sleep away for this other school, all summer?"

"I…guess…"

"And, last question honey, can you take on a 2-hour course at home during _this_ school year."

A little scared now, Mark said "I dunno….maybe…if I have a free period in Jr. High, to do homework I guess…"

"Mark, may I introduce you to someone? But if I do, you may not tell ANYONE about ANYTHING you may see, hear, feel, learn, hear or anything else ok?"

" ..shi..shure…."

Jo walked to the fireplace, lit the logs, and put her hand in her pocket. Drawing a deep breath, she took out a handful of powder and threw it into the flames.

The fire turned _GREEN_. _EMERALD_ even.

A spinning shape appeared in the flames (if you can call it that, thought Mark), and the next second, a woman walked out of the fireplace, glanced sternly at Mark before turning to Jo.

"Josephine. It's been a while. Albus should be _healed_ enough from your last encounter to speak with you in a month."

A grim line had replaced Jo's mouth as she nodded straightly.

"Kindly, close the shades." Tim closed them deftly, leaving the room with a musty appearance.

"Has he been told anything?"

Two head shakes.

"Very well."

The woman turned to Mark and said "Hello Mark Evans. I am Professor McGonagall."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Good, you've finally got your letters! Now, tomorrow we'll go to the Alley, get all your things for school, get some new quills maybe, spare parchment…" _She can go on forever like this_ mouthed Ron. _Got a chore for us to do?_ Mouthed Harry back.

Ron grinned and stood. "Mum, Me n' Harry are gunna go de-gnome the garden k? Thanx!" Ron bolted with Harry hot on his heels.

"You realize that we'll actually have to de-gnome the garden now right?"

"Better that listen to _THAT_ for three hours. She really did go on like that once. When Fred and George got their first letters. It was bad. Real bad."

Shaking his head at his rueful memories, he doubled over, straightening with a gnome's ear between his clenched fingers and thumb in a hard pinch.

"Think you can get 50 feet away?" commented Harry in a conversational tone, having just gripped a gnome by the back of it's head.

"You're on!"

"Ha! That was SIXTY feet!"

"Yeah, but it was only SEVEN feet HIGH!"

"IT WAS TEN FEET, EXCUSE ME!!!"

"Mine was higher!"

"Got it up twenty feet, you owe me a butterbeer Ron!"

"Well I'll pay it as soon as I can filch one from the kitchens!" "OH! Beat THAT ONE!"

Harry loved De-Gnoming the Weasley's garden.

And it's even funner with people to bet with!!!

**AN- Yeah….see Mark cant go to Howgarts while Harry's still there. This is Harry's 6****th**** Year, and Mark's not in the book.**

**Hence, the home-skooling.**

** bibi!**

**-Mimi!!**


	13. She can blush?

**AN. Sorry for making you wait so long. It didn't seem anyone cared…no one responded to my plea for help. Well I wrote it without your help! ****HAHAHA.**

**o. ****and**** to the ****pple**** who said b4 that story is getting too goofy and stupid, I am trying to remedy that.**

**Suggestions can always be ****given,**** I want u guys to like the story too.**

Mark couldn't help but stare in shock at this frightening woman towering over him. She made him feel like a four-year-old kid, caught with a snake in hand outside his sister's room.

"Proffesor."

"yes. Glad to know your not deaf boy. Now I understand you've been told nothing yet. Correct?" She directed this to the couple standing a few paces behind her, still keeping her eyes locked with Mark's.

"yes." Whispered Jo, confirming it the second time in 57 seconds.

"Now," she continued, still speaking to the adults, grasping Mark's chin firmly and gazing intently at his face. "You understand that Dumbledore has ordered me not to reveal certain information until _later_. **I** will bring his books, and **I ** will be his sole instructor for a year. That understood boy?"

He nodded mutly, beginning to wake from his awe-induced breain-stoppage.

"Erm, excuse me, ma'am, professor, ms…"

"You will address me as "Professor.""

"Excuse me Professor, but what will you be instructing me in?"

Slowly, intently, the sharp woman's eyes, swept the room, stopping at a picture of two girls. Walking over to it, she directed at Mark "Do you like this photograph?"

_What the hell…..what did the picture have to do with anything?_ Hiding his confusion badly in his voice, he said "Yes Professor."

"You may also address me as Ma'am."

"Yes Ma'am."

Still gazing at the framed picture, Ma'am shot out "Do you believe in magic boy?"

_Magic?_ "No. it's not real," he lied.

He was clearly not the most achieved lier, and she threw over her shoulder "So what do you think could be done with magic?"

"….Practically anything, I guess…" Mark trailed off, ending in a whispered "…even wake the dead…"

The woman reacted and jerked oddly, glaring at the boy's parents. _HE KNOWS ABOUT LILY, DOESN'T HE? __STUPID, FOOLISH MUGGLES.__**THIS**__ IS WHY THEY WERE LEFT OUT OF THEIR GRANDSON'S LIFE!!! FOOLS!!!!_

"No." the answer hung, suspended in mid-air, dripping venom. The answer to his softly-spoken remark. _No. not another student, driven on resurrecting the dead…not again._

Without warning, Ma'am's hand plunged into her pocket, emerging, brandishing a stick. This, she pointed at the picture, and it burst into flames.

Mark watched in horror and the ends began to curl and burn, slowly charring, and destroying the rest of the only thing he had of _them_.

Angrily, he turned to the Professor, only to find her gestering back to the frame. Spinning back, he saw the picture, framed perfectly by the spinning dust particles, illuminated by the ray of light cast by the setting sun through the curtain.

He gasped, looking at Ma'am, who twirled her stick innocently between her fingers. It stopped suddenly, and she held it up looking right at the Evans Parents.

"You, boy, we're leaving."

Gulp.

Mark stumbled along in a daze the last few minutes blurring together. He remembered that he stepping into a green fire, glanced at a decrepit –looking old man, walked through fire _again_, said hello to some guy called Tom, walked through a wall, and was now stumbling behind Ma'am.

"Ma'am, excuse me, but where are we going?"

"Ollivanders."

"Professor, what is Ollivanders?"

"A shop."

_Oh! So they were going shopping were they?_

"what does the shop sell Professor?"

Silence.

He was whisked through a door, and left standing, staring up at the countless amount of thin boxes, while Professor called for Charrinn Olivander.

"So he's here is he?" asked a squeaky, yet harsh sounding voice. It was coming from a head sticking out over the edge of the mountain of boxes. "took long enough 'Nerva."

"sorry." Mumbled Ma'am. Mark was shocked. _THIS_ small old man with an Albert Einstein hair-do, could humble _Ma'am_???

"Come now, come, try some out."

Nervously, Mark glanced at Professor, who sighed.

"you have magic, boy. Your parents finally actually reported and act. How elso could you have gotten your Spanish toast up to your tree-top floor?"

**FLASHBACK**

…Mark shuffled downstairs, and put some French Toast on his plate. He went to the backyard, and sat in his "tree house" to eat.

**END FLASHBACK**

Mark goggled.

He goggled some more, then, still smiling like some fool on drugs, he collapsed in a dead faint.

"Bloody kid." Grumbled Minerva.

"Would talk, youngster. _You_ didn't take news too well either if I recall correct."

Blushing furiously, Minerva Levitated the unconscious boy, back through the streets, and settled him in a soft bed, in Room 3 of the Leaky Cauldron.

**Sorry again. Next ****chappie**** real soon **___**b'n**___

**bibi**

**Mimi E**


	14. Magicall wands

**AN- sry for not updateing in so VERY long (if NE1 noticed…..evil non-reviewing pple), but, im bored so im continueing my writers-blocked story! Here Goes!**

Mark woke slowly. His bleary eyes refused to register images, so he gave up trying and lay on his back, eyes closed.

_I had the strangest dream_, He thought. _I dreamt that a scary woman called 'Professor' (or Ma'am) came into my house and told me I had magic. I dreamt that she took me through some Diagonally Ally or something to buy something. It was so REALISTIC! O well._ Mark groaned unwilling to be awake. The blaring sunlight was against him however and was brutally striking him through the curtains.

_And any second, Mom'll want me to come down and have breakfast. Yay. _He heard a sharp rap on the door. _Right on time._ He didn't move.

A second rap followed and when getting no answer, the Rap-er opened the door and shouted "BOY! GET **UP**!!"

Mark fell out of in a ball of tangled sheets. _It's real. Oh god, its real._ He wasn't sure if he should be over-joyed, nervous or scared whit-less. He opted for a strange mix.

Professor stared down at him. "What part of 'get up' _don't_ you understand Evans? Ollivanders is expecting us!"

"Yes Professor." Mark stood and looked around. He was in yesterday's clothing, his hair was short and didn't need combing, but he just _had_ to brush his teeth!

He summoned his courage. "Professor?"

She glared at him.

He gulped but continued on bravely "Excuse me, sorry, but do you have a toothbrush and paste?"

Ma'am's mouth quivered, but her arm shot out in a twirl, and a pink toothbrush and purple toothpaste (Bertie Botts- a different flavor with every scrub!) appeared on the bedspread.

"Now get moving."

Mark hurriedly brushed his teeth and left the room going down the dangerous-seeming steps. Professor shoved a cup and a napkin of something warm into his hands before pushing him out the door and tapping some bricks, before shoving his gaping self through the hole.

He was whizzed past everything, having time to shove the warm food into his mouth, enjoying the colors, sounds and strange people that passed him.

Suddenly someone's face was infront of his own.

"Ah, so he's back, wand arm, right. Thank you. I'll go see……"



The tape measure was speeding around his body measuring useless things like the size of his ear-holes and fingernails.

The man –Ollivander?- returned holding ten or twelve thin, long, boxes.

"Let's see, 17 inches, mahonagy, durable, dragon heart-string, good for hexes. Try it out now." he handed a stick to Mark who awkwardly, raised it, only to have it snatched out of his hand.

"No, no…how about……13.5 inches, willow, bendy, phoenix feather, good for charms." This stick too was shoved into his hand.

Again, MarK raised it obediently, and, wanting to do something "spectacular" flourished it at a flower pot.

Which prompty blew up showering all three of them with dirt. Mark handed it quickly back to Ollivander.

He was handed several more sticks-"Wands, boy, they're wands. The best anywhere!"-only remembering parts of their descriptions, "12.75 inches…..unicorn hair…..transfiguration…..thick and flexible….cherry….oak…..NO NO NO!!"

Resigned that he would never get a wand, Mark accepted another being shoved his way, without even a description to accompany it. He raised it and immediately he felt a glow spread through his fingers as fireworks shot out the end.

"Oh GOOD!!" Ollivander cried. "Maple, Unicorn hair, 13 inches, flexible yet almost unbreakable, good for transfiguration, bet you like THAT Minerva!"

Mark just stood there, cradling the wand, HIS wand in his arms.

He grinned.

NO ONE on the block would believe THIS!

HE HAD A WAND!!

**Yes, I no, this is bad. But if u hate it, tell me. If u like it, tell me. Pretty much, ull get crdit for telling me the weather!**


	15. 15

OK, so pretty much, I'm having a Writer's Low Self-Esteem Issue. I will happily continue this story, if, within 1 MONTH (by December 13, 2008) I have at least 5 reviewers boost my self-esteem and ask me to continue this story. I know this sounds weird, but it'll make me really happy and I will try to update ever two weeks (if possible).


	16. Answer to chap 15

Okay, I got EIGHT reviewers asking me to continue this story!!!! And I only asked for FIVE!!!!

Okay, I really love you guys, truly:

Vcandrewsfan

Horsegrad13

kilala fae

CirqueDuFreakFan

Nights in a City

sarahpotter42

lilyre

karouda ()

I really really love you guys, and promise to update next Saturday Night!!!!! (December 20)

Really, I do love you.

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

(Wow, am I repetitive)

And if you have any suggestions of plot twists, please messege them to me in time!!!!!

Thank you all again!!!!

M. E.


	17. Magic and Weasley

**Okay, I am sorry for not updating in a million years, and this chappie will probably be quite short. My writing style has changed (I think) so sorry if the story has a different feel to it. (Dec. 20)**

A wand. He had a wand. A Magical Wand. A Magical Wand that could do….magic.

Wow.

Mark grinned evilly for moment. Imagine what he could do to Bobby with _this_.

"That'll be 3 galleons, 12 sickles and 5 knuts please."

Mark shook his head and looked up at Ollivanders, who was looking expectedly between Mark and Professor.

Mark cleared his throat "Um…Sir. That is, I haven't got any money." He looked sadly at the wand, and moved to place it back into the long box.

A hand shot out and stopped him. "I'll pay."

"But Professor."

"I'm SURE your mother will pay me back." Mark was confused. He was quite sure his mother didn't have any currency called "nuts".

"Thank Mr. Ollivander boy!"

"Yes. Thank you sir!" Mark stumbled out the door in front of Professor.

"'Nerva!! Say hello to Josephine for me eh? Now that you're so well together!" Chuckling, Ollivander retreated into his shop.

"Stupid old man…if Albus….wands…URK!" Professor mumbled under her breath.

She turned and glared at Mark. "Books now."

Dragging him into another shop, she grabbed books off a shelf, snatched interesting books from his hands (ones that said "4 ways to 4ever win!" and "Afraid of magic? No squib are you! A List of Magical Ailments") keeping only boring books like "Standard book of spells" and "Basic Hexes and Charms". The money issue came up again, costing Mark's mother an additional 17 galleons, 8 sickles and 7 nuts. How you could buy things with nuts, Mark could not learn.

Mark tried to remind himself that this was only August 8th. Just one day after his birthday. One day after he met Professor. A day after Harry called….and told him….about Lily.

Mark looked up. "Professor, how is Lily's baby famous?"

Minerva glanced down, barely containing her surprise and fear. Had the Muggles told him EVERYTHING!!! Damn them to hell!

Mark watched her rage within, looking up defiantly.

Professor met his gaze and it dawned on her that although this boy couldn't lie for his life, could detect a lie as if it were like another sense.

"He survived." She said curtly.

"Survived what?"

"That's all you'll get from me today!"

Oooooh Professor was evil. Evil indeed!

They walked up to a large building with GRINGOTTS emblazed on it.

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Harry sat at the Weasely's table enjoying the feel of it: Ron and Hermione happily bickering, Ginny talking to her father who was looking grave as his daughter spoke about her boyfriend, Fred and George arguing with their mother, and Harry looking happily at the chaos around him.

Ginny broke off from her conversation with her father and dropped down across from Harry. "So, oh Chosen One, What are your World-Saving plans for today?"

"Oh, I was thinking of rescuing a poor lad from the tirade of a dangerous madwoman this morning." Harry replied. Ginny was possibly the only other one in the house who he honestly enjoyed spending time with…away from Ron of course. Last time he saw Harry leaning over a gasping Ginny, he had come to the wrong conclusion. He of course did not think that Ginny tripped down a hill and that Harry had fallen on top her trying to help her, and, of course, tripping as well.

Nope.

Because Ron tends to think the worst of people.

Oh well.

We may have to destroy him for that.

Anyways, back to the convo!

"Don't bother," Ginny replied easily, grabbing a blueberry muffin from the table, "They'll get used to it. I mean, the children shouldn't hear their parents arguing all the time."

"Hmm? Children? Whose?"

"Why, my brother and Hermione's of course! I mean look at them, they're perfect for each other!

Both peered over at the couple in question. Ron was on the floor, and Hermione was guiltily dropping a heavy book and smoothing out her skirt.

Harry and Ginny burst out laughing.

Ron, already fuming because of the argument and loss thereof, saw his sister and best friend holding onto each other laughing hysterically.

And of course, he reached some conclusion which was probably very complicated, twisted, non-sensical, sick, and of course, totally and utterly wrong.

Harry, seeing the steam, abruptly stopped laughing and bolted upstairs to find his broomstick. He was out the window before Ron was even in the room.

Hogwarts. He'd go the Hogwarts.

Northward.

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Mark stared at his ceiling in awe of what happened that day.

The moonlight was creating a steady, soft glow around his room making it look _magical_.

Mark grinned. Magic. HE had magic.

Mark turned on his side at stared at the long, thin box on his bedside table. His wand. HIS wand.

Mark closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Harry needed to see Dumbledore. He didn't remember why, or when his cool, calm flight had turned urgent and needful.

Cold. He was so cold in the night.

And so tired….

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Mark turned on his side and faced the window.

A small, shadow of a cloud passed over the moon as sleep passed over Mark.

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Harry's blue fingers could no longer support him.

He fell into a doze and his fall began.

**Sorry it's so short. Maybe the next one will be longer.**

**I decided to add in Ginny because, I think she's kinda funny.**

**If you hate me, sorry for that too, but **_**tell me what I'm doing wrong!!!!!**_

**Thank you, and sorry again.**


	18. At Last

Spiraling. Spiraling out of control, faster and faster, a vortex of speed, hurling towards the ground….

Harry blinked his eyes open blearily, and quickly tried to control his flight.

Downward….downward….

Harry surged, seeing red, imagining how fast it would take and how it would feel to splatter on the cement. Not that it mattered. The Ministry would hear of Muggles seeing him and he'd he SO dead anyway.

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Mark dreamed of flying.

It was a wonderful dream.

If you were flying, nothing could go wrong.

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Harry jerked his broom into control 100 yards from the ground and immediately began to pull up into the clouds.

The freezing clouds.

The freezing, cold WET clouds.

Harry though he was defiantly going to get hypothermia.

He scanned the ground below him, learning his location. He right near Hogwarts.

….why did he want to go there again?

An image of Mark popped into his mind. …no, that wasn't it.

Ah, it was of course the matter of…something important right?

It must have been at least.

Harry finished his flight and ventured into Hagrid's empty hut, knowing of the safety precautions of the castle. He collapsed on Hagrid's huge bed, and slept.

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Mark was happily asleep.

He dreamed of the smell of strawberries.

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Harry awoke to the smell of strawberries. He started and then sat back with a groan. It may smell good, but it was Hagrid's cooking.

Shoot.

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

"Dears!! Strawberry tarts!" called Mrs. Weasley up the stairs of her precariously balanced home. "Strawberry Tarts for breakfast!"

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

In his office Dumbledore took a bite and sighed happily. Yum. Strawberry pie with cream. Best breakfast of them all.

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Professor McGonagall was out of Shampoo. Deciding which to conjure, she did a complex wand movement and Strawberry-scented shampoo appeared on her bedspread.

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

**Author: I have no idea what's with all the strawberry. I considered peach, but I hate peach!**

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

In Mark's dream, the scent of strawberries was everywhere. All around him. It soothed him and out of the corner of his dream-eye, he saw a flash of red hair.

He followed it, it's owner always straying just beyond his sight.

Mark tracked her, not recognizing his surroundings.

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

"Hagrid! I've got to see Professor Dumbledore, NOW!"

"Harry, he's doin something important. Can' it wait at all?"

"NO!!!!"

"All righ', keep yer 'air down. Come on, I'll take ye to 'im."

Harry grumbled and followed Hagrid, grabbing a Tart.

On the path, he took a sulking bite, and choked. Quietly, he chucked it away from him.

It was burnt. And hard. And….so _Hagrid's cooking_ if you get me.

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

The Weasly household was all arranged at the table. All but Ron who came stumbling in frantic-eyed. "Where's Harry?"

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Mark tracked her until she disappeared. His dream-self looked about frantically, spotting a sign reading "Godric's Hollow". He ran down the streets, finally cataching the vivid glimpse by a house on some twisty road.

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Hagrid led Harry through the castle and up the staircase leadigng to Dumbledore, who of course, somehow knew they were coming and had stashed his pie, looked up from his folded hands, his eyes glittering as Hagrid closed the door.

"Well, Harry?"

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

"Ron, this is your fault!" a teary Ginny screamed. Stupid Ronald!

Ron looed horrible. He looked around silently, eyes wide. "He…he flew off through the window. He never….came back?"

Silence.

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Harry allowed the subject on his mind to burst through his lips: "Sir, who is Mark Evans?"

Dumbledore looked at him solemnly.

"Harry, I believe it's time we talked."

8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

The owner of the hair stood before a house, with a man with unruly jet-black hair, glasses, and hazel eyes. A baby with the same hair as the man, but with the woman's eyes blinked from a blanket in her arms. The shadowy figure looking like the man but with green eyes, and a slightly different built stood to the side.

"Hello Mark," said the woman "I am Harry Potter's mother. Your sister, Lily."

**8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~**

**Yes, you hate me. I know. However, I demand reviews! To every chapter! Mwahahahahah!**

**Also, I'm thinking of getting a Beta. What do ya think?**


	19. Three Way Split

**Okay, im SORRY!!!!!! After this, hopefully I will return to the normal update schedule….sorry again.**

**Oh, and still looking for a Beta.**

_Recap:_

_Ron looked horrible. "he flew off through the window. He never….came back?"_

_8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~_

"_Sir, who is Mark Evans?"_

"_Harry, I believe it's time we talked."_

_8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~_

"_Hello Mark," said the woman "I am Harry Potter's mother. Your sister, Lily."_

**And now the chapter!!!**

"Okay, let's try to think of this rationally," said Hermione, sitting at the Weasley Kitchen Table. "When people run, or fly in this case, off, they go to a place where they feel safe, at home, or comfortable. Usually somewhere they spent time in as a child." She looked up at the faces around her. "So….any suggestions?"

"Grimmauld Place. That's where he and Sirius had some good times. ….I think."

"Uh, Hermione, for some reason, I don't think Harry ran off to the Dursleys' for a loving hug and a kiss."

"Hey! He met Hagrid on some little shack in the middle of the ocean! Maybe he went there!"

"Why would he go to the ocean!!!! Don't be stupid!!!! Think of somewhere logical!!!"

Everyone looked at each other silently for a moment before saying "Hogwarts."

"Of course…" Hermione breathed.

Ron looked around "So, who knows if the Platform is open yet?"

Everyone else stared.

"What?"

**8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8**

"…and after that, we determined it best if you grew up with your aunt and uncle. Mark was born when you were about five, I believe to fill the gap in their hearts by your supposed death."

Dumbledore looked at Harry over his spectacles. "I am not proud," he said quietly. "Nor am I glad that you spent the first ten years of your life miserable. But I knew that you had potential and that could not be smothered by love and protection, nor shrunk with the inflated ego you may have gotten growing up in our world."

Dumbledore stood and faced the window. "I did what was needed. Not what I wanted."

Harry swallowed digesting all of this new information. "I forgive you Professor. I understand. Thank you."

He got up stiffly, "I'll leave now. The Weasleys must be worried. I'm sorry I kept you from your breakfast. Good-bye sir."

Harry left, the door shutting with a click behind him.

Dumbledore turned, "Fawks, what will I do? What have I already done?"

The Headmaster of Hogwarts retuned to his chair, and mulled over thoughts instead of pie.

**8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8**

"Yes," said Lily. "Yes, I am dead. As are my husband, James, and in a way, my son, Harry. You've met Harry I believe." She smiled, he looks like his dad, but for my eyes."

Lily turned and walked toward one of the houses. She stopped, turned and blushed. "Sorry. Mark can you please come into the house with me?" She waited for his to catch up. "James?" she called, "I want to show Mark the albums, could you get them out please!"

She sighed turning to her brother slightly, "Husbands, right?" as James called back "What albums?"

**Sorry. It was really short.**

***cringe***

**(whimper) Beta suggestions please. review.**


	20. 20

**Ok, I am so SO sorry for being the worst author ever! Please forgive me!**

………………**..**

**Please? *whimper***

**Anyways, to all the old dedicated fans of this story out there, and to the odd new one popping up and adding it to "faves" or "alerts" (thanks btw), I am sorry to inform you that my interest in this story has withered away, begged, pleaded, and died in a small, dark corner in the recesses of my mind. **

**I began writing this 2 years ago, with hopes I would become more than a reader on fanfic, and have people talk to me, and advise me on my story and have fun.**

**Yeah, that did NOT happen.**

**I tried continuing it for the small people out there, but I was already disinterested.**

……**.sorry again.**

**Anyways though, if any of you are interested in this story and really enjoy it, please send me a message on how to pick it up off its feet and carry it into glory. Or, if you're just completely (and duly) mad at me and believe that I have no right whatsoever (or close to that) of continuing this hallowed story, tell me and you may want to consider adopting this story. **

**(Adopting= giving up all rights to this project and allowing you to ****[minuscully] ****change previous chapters, and take it away to continue it on your own.)**

**So that's where it lies. Again, really sorry, escpesially if you felt strung-along.**


End file.
